Sunday Morning
by dwilivia
Summary: Driving slow on Sunday morning, and I never want to leave. RYELLA ONESHOT


Sunday Morning

A light shuffle brought the whole bed to creak, shifting with the weight of two people sprawled across its huge frame. Dark brown tresses were scattered over a pale arm and delicate fingers brushed against an equally pale chest as the bodies shifted once more to edge in closer for warmth.

Outside, the rain fell in heavy sheets as clouds loomed the sky above, casting dim shadows in the room over the two forms. A flash of lightning raced across the sky, but the thunder never followed. Nobody knew why, but it never thundered in Albuquerque on Sunday mornings.

The air was cold, as it always was when it rained, and a hand snaked down between naked bodies to pull up the blankets that had gathered and crumpled at their feet. A tug sent the blanket over a head, and another pulled it in the opposite direction. The blanket tumbled off brown locks of hair. A frown was etched across a beautiful face, before an arm reached across to retrieve it back. A forehead creased beneath golden fringe, but the body simply huddled back into the sheets, too tired to persure with the matter. And with that, they finally came to an agreement, even in their sleep, to share the quilt, and the two shifted closer again.

A smile alit slightly darker features. Perfectly manicured fingernails came to rest on the shoulder of the blonde, and in his sweet slumber, he managed a half smile.

The brunette gradually opened her eyes as she watched the blonde boy huddled next to her. She studied his finely arrayed features, from the arch of his nose to the soft lines and corners of his lips, from his firm jaw line to the pure wheat gold of his hair.

She wondered what she'd done to deserve all this. All of him.

It had been one heck of a year, and graduation had only beenthree weekends ago. But he'd already decided where he'd wanted to be right after high school ended- right here, lying asleep with her by his side. She hadn't really been sure of anything, really. Troy had moved four weeks before graduating on a scholarship to a fantastic University in Boston, and he'd broken it off with her and told her he wouldn't want her to wait for him all those four years. It had killed her a little inside. But she'd promised herself she'd forget Troy Bolton. And she'd started with Ryan.

And what had been one desperate act had blossomed into a whirlwind of emotions neither had expected. Pretty soon, he was sending her flowers in her locker. Then, it was a song he'd sung for her during home coming. And finally, he'd kissed her at graduation, while everyone was busy throwing their hats up in the air.

He tasted like a blend of things- of spicy, sweet and sour blended to give a fabulous taste. His tongue had snaked in her mouth to fuse their lips closer, and it had been a whole explosion on her tastebuds.

And after that, she couldn't stop herself.

But of course, it hadn't been easy. They'd always disagreed, and she never knew why. Sometimes, things just got so crazy with them. He'd always be the over dramatic one while she was usually level-headed and understanding. Sometimes, they'd just sit around the fireplace in his apartment and drink coffee and lean back onto each other. Drinking and dreaming.

He'd always loved road trips. Sometimes, he'd wake up in the mornings and shake her awake and tug her along for a drive. They'd go as far as the third next city and then turn back three hundred miles later, because by then she would've had cultivated enough sense in her to tell him to go back.

She had to visit her Grandmother in Utah every other month. She was a frail, sickly lady who spoke only Spanish and who loved her only grandchild dearly. He'd once dropped by her apartment five blocks down from hers while she was away and drove all the way to Utah to look for her. And he'd found her sitting with her Grandmother talking in a mixture of Spanish and English.

She'd invited him in, and her Grandmother fell in love with him all at once. And when he opened his mouth to speak in fluent Spanish, she'd been even more delighted.

That night they left Utah together and spent the night at a Holiday Inn. He'd kissed her in the car and told her about his own grandfather's death years ago, and she hugged him back and patted him while he cried into her shoulder. They'd been close, she knew, far closer than she and her own grandmother. And that night she kept awake, because she knew he'd driven miles just to see her. Just when living life got crazy.

Her eyes felt heavy the next day. It was Sunday, again. And at five in the morning, he started the car and slipped a bag of strawberry glazed doughnuts (which she loved) and a cup of hot chocolate and they set off.

They shared this in common- waking up early even before the sun ever rose. But they loved the darkness, and the lights of dawn upon the sky. And even after they'd passed the state line and when the sky still reigned dark in delirium, he turned to his right and saw her face. He drove a little slower after that, and when she complained that she'd had a couple of college letters to sort out later, he'd said that he wanted just a little more time to look at her.Cause she was all he needed in life.

He was so sweet. She remembered when they first did it, during their graduation party three weeks ago. It was raining and a sleepy darkness had washed over Albuquerque, and when she stumbled into a room sobbing and thinking about Troy, he'd been there, waiting to catch her.

She remembered falling onto the bed, smothered with his kisses until they left her dry and sated. His fingers ran over her back, lifiting her shirt from her body before skimming over the smooth expanse of her stomach. And the way he did it was sweet and slow, precise, almost careful strokes that made her almost burst with anticipation. That first time he did it, she called him an artist at work.

She stayed with him the rest of the night, and when morning came and the morning sun had sucked the rain dry from the streets, she half feared he would leave her. But there he was, lying on his back and sleeping soundly like a little baby. And he had been there ever since, even till today.

She smiled, half listening to the rain, half listening to the sound of his breathing. And then, with a stifled yawn, she molded herself into his own body, slipping one leg between his own and entwining their fingers together as she closed her heavy lidded eyes to sleep away another lazy Sunday morning.

-Sunday morning, Maroon 5

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A/N: Eh, too short. But there aren't many Ryellas around. It's almost sad. 

I would love some people on staff for the C2 community- Ryella. Please leave me a message or a reivew or an email if you would like to help out. Thanks!

Also, for those who read _Precettore _and are wondering what the heck I'm doing with it, you can read my author's page where I usually write updates on the progress of chapters. Yeah! Chapter 4 is almost 40-45 percent done.


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